


The Ring (5 + 1)

by shetlandowl



Series: Make it Clap [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Tony Stark, Come Eating, Come Marking, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Jealous Tony Stark, M/M, Mention of cheating scumbags who aren't Tony or Steve, Possessive Steve Rogers, Rimming, Secret Admirer, Sexy time tags:, Spoiled Steve Rogers, Top Steve Rogers, Toxic masculinity ruins the party again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-12
Updated: 2019-05-12
Packaged: 2020-03-02 07:57:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18806965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shetlandowl/pseuds/shetlandowl
Summary: All couples have to work to make their relationship work. Steve and Tony work on communication consistently, but that doesn't mean they aren't allowed their individual privacy, their own secrets. Ever since they got back together, Steve has worn a golden ring around his neck.Clearly it's important to him, so why hasn't he said a word about it to Tony?[Make it Clapsequel]





	1. Five

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SuperstringSymphony](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuperstringSymphony/gifts).



> This is for the sweetest cheerreader I could have ever asked for, [SuperstringSymphony](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuperstringSymphony/pseuds/SuperstringSymphony), who so generously donated to Jess Guilbeaux's college fund!! I love you, lady, thank you for ALL THE YELLING!!!
> 
> This is unbetad, forgive my errors. I will correct them as I go/re-read.

Since Tony spent so much of his time in front of computer screens or working on tablets, they both made an effort to reduce screen time when they were together. On weekends they tried to get out of the house as much as they could - wandering through farmer’s markets, taking in a new museum exhibit, or stopping by for Shakespeare in the Park in the summertime. During the weekday when Tony got home late from work and didn’t have the energy to move a finger, they typically stayed in to play board games, solve crossword puzzles, or read together to wind down the night. 

The only exception seemed to be Netflix documentaries. Steve adored them and couldn’t bear to leave them unwatched, and like most things he enjoyed, he wanted Tony to do it with him. And it wasn’t that Tony didn’t like Netflix documentaries, it was just… they weren’t exactly cheerful. Documentarians had a knack for reminding Tony of things he often tried not to think about - like how racism will never end, or the miserable advent of cyberbullying, or how we’re all basically going to die once global warming melts the Siberian tundra and unleashes unprecedented levels of carbon dioxide that’s been stewing from rotting vegetation trapped under the ice for millenia. 

So that last one hadn’t been made yet, but Tony knew it was on the horizon. One day he'd be sitting in Steve’s arms, munching on cheese and grapes as they learned about the inevitable: the end of life as they know it. 

Or maybe long, frustrating work days brought out the pessimist in him. It was hard to tell sometimes.

Still, Tony looked forward to every one of them. After all, if he was going to hear the details about how their time on this beautiful, blue planet was limited, there was no better place to hear it than in Steve’s strong arms. Tony had spent the better part of three years held by those arms, protected, safe, and loved. And not that he’d ever admit it to Steve, who genuinely looked forward to their documentary watching nights, but Tony had yet to make it more than twenty minutes through one before getting distracted by his Steve. First Tony would get lost in how his long, graceful fingers held Tony’s hands, or held his glass of wine or even held the remote. Then, little by little, Tony’s gaze would drift up over his hands to his firm forearms that rested so gently around him even though Tony knew they could so easily flex to boast powerful, corded muscles others only dream of. From there it would be so easy to drift and stare at his biceps, the breadth of his shoulders, and even now, in the middle of some truly stunning scenes from Blue Planet II narrated by the inspiring, uplifting voice of Sir David Attenborough, Tony was just staring at Steve’s profile in vibrant blue light streaming off the screen. His proud nose, his soft lips, his heart-stopping, glorious jaw. His long, blond lashes that barely flickered shut as he lost himself to the wonder on the screen. 

Under the guise of settling his head more comfortably, Tony twisted in Steve’s arms to see him better. As was his preference (and Tony’s preference, too), Steve avoided clothes to the extent that he could. So as Tony settled there were no layers between them to obscure the long, bold lines of Steve’s neck, or the wide, graceful sweep of his clavicle. It didn’t matter how often Tony looked his fill, Steve always managed to take his breath away. Tony had seen Steve grow from a sweet college student who was still learning about himself and the world, into this fundamentally good, kind man who showered him with affection and love every day. A thoughtful man, a humble man; Tony’s faithful shield against the storm. 

Tony was just beginning to question his own priorities in life for leaving Steve’s skin perfectly unblemished when a quick flash from the TV screen reflected in the gold ring dangling on a chain around Steve’s neck. 

“How come you never take that off?” he wondered out loud. 

“Sauron couldn’t take it from me,” Steve mumbled in reply, never once taking his eyes away from the shimmering fish on the screen. 

Tony blinked up at him. He wasn’t even sure Steve was aware he’d answered a question. “Who?”

Silence cut through Blue Planet II and a beautiful shark froze on the screen. 

“What do you mean, ‘who?’” 

The look of horrified incredulity on Steve’s face was what did it. Tony lost it, face-planting against Steve’s chest to hide his face and to muffle his spluttering, wheezing giggles. It took Steve a moment longer to realize he’d been had, but as soon as he did, he squeezed Tony in his arms until Tony whimpered in surrender. 

“You come into my house, and you say ‘who?’” Steve growled into his hair with feigned anger thundering in every word. “We respect Tolkien in this house, you weasel—”

“Steve!” 

Tony tried to sound like the indignant, blameless victim in this whole travesty, but he got no further than wheezing Steve’s name before Steve’s strong, devilish fingers honed in on the most sensitive, ticklish areas on Tony's body. It didn’t matter that Tony had grown since college, or that he’d put on noticeably more muscle since starting his company two years ago: Steve had matched him step for step. Every now and then - when Tony wore something particularly fitted around his shoulders or his arms were bare - Steve would forget whatever else required his attention and gather Tony up in his arms, testing to see if he could still lift his lover without difficulty. 

Whether Steve was giving in to his possessive or protective streak didn’t matter, because he never failed to reduce Tony to a hot, giddy mess. Tony would invite his touch and hold him close any way he could, whether he’d squeeze his legs around Steve’s waist, curl his arms around Steve’s neck, or as on one memorable occasion, smack Steve in the face and hold on to his hair. 

None of it had counted against Tony’s interests until Steve lifted Tony out of his lap and pinned him down into the couch cushions to tickle into surrender. Breathless and crying from laughter, Tony wasn’t good for anything but curling into himself for protection from Steve’s self-indulgent tickling. 

“Uncle! Uncle, I give,” Tony wheezed between hitching breaths until finally - _finally_ \- Steve relented. Tony coughed through the last of his laughter while scrubbed half-heartedly at the tears on his face and tried to grumble through something snarky when Steve caught his hands. 

“That’s your face, you know,” he whispered as he softly brushed away Tony’s tears of laughter from his cheeks. Tony rolled his eyes good-naturedly, but rather than giving some smart answer he softly took Steve by his ears and guided him closer for grateful, lingering kisses. 

“Tell me,” he whispered between kisses. “Should I be jealous?” 

For a moment, Steve was too distracted by Tony’s lips to react - when the question caught up with him, he had to pull away to avoid laughing into Tony’s mouth. 

“No, sweetheart. There’s no-one but you. This is just an old keepsake,” he admitted, running his finger over the chain until he caught the ring. He didn’t take the necklace off or offer it to Tony, but he smiled at it with a far-away look in his eyes, clearly revisiting a fond memory. 

Tony attentively watched so many familiar expressions flicker across his face—adoration, sadness, contentment—and something he couldn’t quite place that approached rueful amusement. 

When Steve returned to the present, he needed a moment to recall what they’d been talking about. “I keep it to remind me of what’s most important in my life,” he explained eventually, before letting go of the ring and shifting on the couch to lay out on top of Tony, stretching out with care until they were both comfortable. 

“Except when you’re with me, of course,” he finished with a playful nonchalance. “You are my priority, Tony. What we have together matters to me.”

“I guess you can keep it,” Tony said with a quiet sniff, but as soon as Steve smiled back at him, he couldn’t hold back his own answering smile. Steve never shied away from reminding Tony how much he mattered to him, and Tony never tired of hearing it. Without fail, his heart felt like it would beat out of his chest from happiness _every time._ There was nothing Tony wouldn’t do for him. 

Steve, who had no interest in all the power he so casually held in the palm of his hands.


	2. Four

The flowers were stunning. How Tony had found a blue flower in a shade so close to Steve’s own eye color Steve would never know. The four days Tony was away on a business trip to California had left Steve’s life so quiet, but trust Tony to surprise him during their short time apart with such a romantic gesture. 

They had been delivered to the front desk while Steve was with his second patient of the morning, so by the time he came to see what the commotion was about, the bouquet of mariposa skies had filled the reception with a delicate, sweet fragrance. 

How Steve resisted shamelessly preening over his unexpected special delivery in front of all his envious colleagues was anybody’s guess. But since he had no better place to put the flowers during the work day, Steve left the full vase with reception and only took the card with him when he went on break to make the happy call. 

Steve read the card over and over again as he waited for Tony to pick up the phone. 

The phone went to voicemail, but before Steve got a chance to leave a message, he noticed Tony was calling him back. Steve connected the call, already smiling, when Tony croaked out, “Steve? Y’kay?” 

_West coast time zones._

“Oh, no—sweetheart, I, I’m sorry, everything is okay, I forgot the time!” Steve rushed to say, “I’m—everything is okay, go back to sleep. Call me when you’re free!” 

“What—what are,” Tony tried to say, clearly aware enough to know Steve normally wouldn’t be so forgetful but too groggy still to form complete sentences. “I’m, I’m up, Steve, I’m—what’s up?”

“Sweetheart, all I wanted to say was thank you,” Steve promised, needing Tony to know he was really happy and touched - that he wasn’t trying to hide some alarming turn of events. “The flowers are absolutely beautiful, the smell is amazing. I don’t know how you found such a close blue, but you’re really… I love you, Tony. I’m sorry I woke you before a meeting, it’s not an emergency or anything, I just, ha. I got a little overexcited.”

“Oh,” Tony said after a brief pause of absolute silence. “You really liked them, huh?”

“I don’t actually think I’ve seen irises before, I’ve never been this close to them,” Steve admitted, a touch bashful. There was nothing embarrassing with this being his first time near irises, or even being a man who received flowers. But if you’d asked him the night before, Steve would never have thought that being surprised with flowers - and such thoughtful flowers, where someone clearly took the time to find flowers the same color as his eyes - could make him feel _this_ cherished. Already he couldn’t wait for Tony to come back to New York so Steve could show him exactly how happy the surprise had made him. 

“I’m going to take them home and find a place for them upstairs where I’ll always see them until you come home. I miss you, Tony. Thank you for thinking of me.”

“How could I not? I’m so happy you like them, babe,” Tony said through a big yawn. “I—”

“No, get some rest, sweetheart. Have a good day, okay? If you get a chance, call me after work.”

With a few grumbles and a lot of yawns, Tony reluctantly agreed that Steve was right and finally hung up. Steve pocketed his phone and sat down to read the card again. Just because Tony needed to rest didn’t mean Steve couldn’t be close to him. 

_Without your smiles, my heart would be lost. Without your kindness, I wouldn’t be half the man I am. If only words could express how much I love you, how much I miss you, and wish we never had to be apart.  
From: Your constant admirer_

Steve read it again and again, and without thinking brought his ring to his lips again and again, pressing absent little kisses into the warm metal with only one man’s lips on his mind. 

*** 

Tony sat up straight in bed. Sleep had abandoned him entirely and he stared down at the dark phone in his hands. 

It didn’t matter how many times he rearranged his day or re-did the math. It didn’t matter, because he kept coming to the same conclusion. 

It was only a few minutes past four in the morning, not that that mattered anymore either. He thumbed at his phone with clumsy fingers, found Pepper’s contact, and called her. When she didn’t pick up the first or second or third time, he climbed out of bed, threw on his robe and walked across the hall to bang on her door. 

The door opened enough to reveal his very irate and irritable personal assistant. 

“What is _wrong with you—_ ”

“We’re going home today,” Tony talked right over her, powering right through her perfectly valid anger. “We need to reschedule tomorrow and Friday’s meetings: we’re going home—”

“What—wait, Tony,” Pepper cried, throwing the door open further so she could use her hands to adequately express how frustrating such a last minute request was. “Why! Tony, we’re talking about foreign investors who—”

“Who want our products because we’re the best, and I need to be home tonight,” Tony insisted again, completely unmoved by her arguments. “Someone who is very much _not me_ is out there sending my man flowers, Pepper.”

Pepper looked at him like he’d grown a third and then even a fourth head. “...you want to run home because of some flowers?”

“Not just any flowers, Pep: special flowers that made Steve smile like it was Christmas or, like, like the flowers regularly volunteered at soup kitchens on weekends and still came home to rub his feet after a long day. And on a day when I’m away? That’s no coincidence, no fucking chance—”

“Alright! Okay, Jesus, they’re special flowers,” Pepper finally conceded loudly before Tony’s insane ramble carried on too long. “Fine, I’ll, I’ll see what I can do. Can you be ready at 6:30?”

“Yeah! Yes, anything—you’re the best, Pep!” 

Tony spun on his heel and dashed back to his room. There was no way he’d fall asleep again, but if he was lucky, he’d be able to squeeze a workout in before six. He wasn’t going to give Steve a single excuse to consider another man, not on his watch.


	3. Three

Shortly before 3pm, Steve left work with his beautiful vase of mariposa skies irises in its protective delivery box. He’d gone back and forth all morning deciding on where to put his flowers, especially since Tony wouldn’t be home for a few days and he had no reason to linger downstairs like he usually did until Tony came home. By now his three favorite options were on his bedside table, on the coffee table in their private reading nook, or out on the patio where it would enjoy the most sunlight and fresh air. 

He was slowly talking himself into bundling up in the reading nook for the rest of the day where he could enjoy the flowers when a black car pulled up beside him on the street and rolled along at his pace. 

“Hey, Mr. Rogers!”

Steve wasn’t sure what was going on until the passenger side window rolled down and he heard Happy’s familiar voice call his name. Steve crouched just enough to peer in through the window. “Happy? Where’s Tony, shouldn’t you be with him?”

“The Boss sent me to pick you up from work,” he explained. “Get in.”

If he didn’t personally know Happy, this whole scenario would feel so bizarre. As it happened, Steve’s face split in a wide grin and he hopped into the back without needing to be told twice. Flowers _and_ a surprise trip? What could Tony be up to? 

“What’s going on today, Happy?” Steve had to ask once he got settled in the backseat. “It isn’t my birthday, or Tony’s birthday… it’s not our anniversary or Valentine’s. What am I missing?”

“That’s above my paygrade, Mr. Rogers,” Happy replied with a shrug. “Oh, and the Boss asked me to take the flowers back to your place.”

Steve tried not to look too upset about passing the box up to Happy at the next stop light. He didn’t want to part with them, but it didn’t seem like Happy was giving him a ride back to the apartment, so it made sense for the flowers to get their own safe delivery. 

“Where are we going?”

“He said you had afternoon tea at Palm Court and a five-o’clock at the Guerlain Spa,” Happy answered without added flare or pomp. “I don’t ask any questions.”

The Plaza Hotel. On a random Thursday, Tony was sending him beautiful flowers and stealing him away to the Plaza Hotel for pampering. It wasn’t so out of character for Tony to treat him to something special out of the blue, but even for them this was a lot. 

“It’s weird though, isn’t it?”

“You want any music?” Happy asked in return, blatantly avoiding Steve’s question. “NPR, maybe?”

“I’ll find something. Thanks, Happy,” Steve replied, and with a sweep of his finger he called up the media control panel on the backseat console. In no time he had the sixth episode of the Last Days of August pulled up, and as they crawled through the Manhattan afternoon traffic, he caught up on Jon Ronson’s podcast. 

Partway through episode seven, Happy pulled up in front of the Plaza Hotel. He was out of the car and there to open Steve’s door before Steve had his seatbelt off, and Steve tried his best to step out of the car like having the car door opened for him was a normal occurrence. Like after all these years, he wasn’t still overcome with the Cinderella strain of imposter syndrome. 

“Happy,” he said slowly as he hesitated on the curb, staring up at the imposing grandeur of the hotel he had no business going to for a casual lunch. “Is Tony here?”

“No, these appointments are for you,” Happy told him with a hint of impatience. Finally, when Steve had stood in the same place for too long, he reached over and pushed Steve aside so he could close the passenger door. 

“How about joining me for a late lunch? Or early dinner,” Steve asked after a beat of uncomfortable silence. “If I’m going to eat alone, I might as well eat at home.”

Happy blinked at Steve like he’d lost his mind. “What, here? Now?”

“Yeah, here and now with me,” Steve said with a smile. “You’re even wearing a suit, you look great. Just give the key to the valet.”

Happy only needed a few seconds to take Steve up on his offer. He told Steve to go on inside while he got everything sorted with the valet, and soon enough, they were both seated at a table where they could enjoy the delicate shimmering melody woven in a gilded harp. When the waiter first came to take their order, he addressed Happy before Steve, taking his cue from the way they were dressed. Happy easily fit in with the crowd in his classic black and white suit, but Steve, who’d been caught on his way home from work, still wore the standard red sweats and white uniform polo all the therapists wore.

It took him a minute, but Steve was the first to realize he’d been identified as the sugar baby. There was a certain ironic truth there, and the first chance he had, he asked if Happy had noticed it, too. As close as Happy was to Tony, Steve barely knew him. Before now he’d only spoken to Happy in passing, and besides his loyalty to Tony, Steve knew next to nothing about him outside of his role as chauffeur and bodyguard. This was the first time they’d had a chance to sit and talk, or (as it happened) to share a laugh at the transparent assumptions of their waiter. 

They leaned into it like nobody’s business. Happy was a natural at bossing people around and making long-winded and painstakingly detailed demands, which gave Steve the freedom to take the backseat. They bonded over boxing and baseball, and by the time he was on his third glass of Grande Cuvée, Happy confided in Steve that he’d been bewitched by Pepper for over a year. 

Much too quickly they had picked their way through their afternoon tea and a bottle of pricey champagne. Since Happy was in no condition to drive, Steve insisted on getting him a room there for the night. He thanked Happy again for joining him for dinner and wished him a good night before booking it back to the spa to make his appointment at the Guerlain. 

The moment Steve gave his name to the spa greeter he was whisked away to a private lounge and invited to every fruit, tea, and drink imaginable. Another young woman came to talk to him and see if he had any concerns or preferences they should be aware of, and it was only then that Steve learned that Tony had arranged their most indulgent package for him. This wasn’t a facial or a massage like usual, but a three hour face and body treatment and four hand massage. Steve hadn’t known what to say, and to her credit, the young woman met his stumped expression with genuine amusement. Even in his shock Steve recognized that being blindsided by an anti-aging treatment sounded ungrateful, but by the time they led him away and he was half asleep on a wide set heated massage table, Steve couldn’t remember what part of it was upsetting. Hell, he couldn’t even remember the last time he had a massage of any kind, let alone one with two therapists that lasted three hours. 

All that was missing was Tony beside him - Tony to thank for this unnecessarily lavish but deeply appreciated pampering, Tony to talk to until the therapist rejoined him, Tony and his soft, content sighs to listen to from across the room. 

Without thinking, Steve reached for his necklace and came up empty. 

No necklace, no ring. 

A cold, chilling panic clawed down his neck. He sat up, frantically scanning the room, but his ring was nowhere to be found. He couldn’t breathe; he couldn’t think - he was about to accept the worst when the memory of putting it in his pant’s pocket while changing suddenly came back to him. The debilitating pressure around his lungs eased to let him breathe, calming his galloping heart, and soon even his numb fingers felt as good as new again. 

As he relaxed back into the heated cushions of the table again, Steve’s thoughts returned to Tony. His Tony who had inexplicably turned up his indulgent pampering all the way to 11 for no discernable reason. Although it was unlikely, Steve could have forgotten an important occasion—the more Steve thought about it, however, he suspected Tony had seen something out in California that reminded him of Steve, or their business negotiations had gone very, very well. 

Either way, Steve couldn’t wait to hear everything. More importantly, Steve couldn’t wait to get his hands on Tony and tell him how wonderful these surprises were, and show him how much Steve appreciated Tony’s efforts to be his attentive and doting partner from thousands of miles away. 

*** 

Three hours turned into three and a half, and it was nearly nine o’clock when Steve finally made his way up to his suite. A part of him felt terribly wasteful for sleeping at a hotel in the same city as his own amazing bed back home; staycations with Tony were one thing (splurging felt reasonable then), but this time it was only him. Steve didn’t care for opulence and majesty. The Plaza couldn’t compete with the bedsheets at home that still smell like Tony, and for all its glamour, it couldn’t hold a candle to the home they shared with all Tony’s touches and belongings that still made Steve smile in their days apart. 

Steve came to a halt in the middle of the suite as the decision solidified in his heart. This part of the night felt all wrong - he wanted to go home. Loose limbed and still a little dizzy from the long massage, Steve shuffled to the nearest phone to call the front desk and arrange a car to take him home. 

He was thumbing through the bills in his wallet for a tip when there was a knock at his door. 

“Room service!”

Steve frowned to himself. The receptionist hadn’t said anything about dinner being brought up. He tucked a twenty under an empty glass on the bedside table then went to answer the door. 

There was a rolling tray with a champagne bottle chilling in a bucket of ice waiting outside his room. 

“I didn’t order this,” he started to explain to the attendant when he actually noticed the well-dressed man behind the tray. 

“Tony?”


	4. Two *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sexy time tags apply here.

In his hurry to get Steve all to himself, Tony pushed the tray in to back Steve further into the suite so he’d have enough space to throw his duffle to the floor and shut the door behind them. 

Who reached for whom first was a mystery - Tony launched himself at Steve at the same time as Steve grabbed him by his suit jacket and hauled him into a hungry, biting kiss. He palmed at Tony like he hadn’t held his boyfriend in months rather than days, and soon he crouched enough to get his arms around Tony’s thighs and lifted Tony into his arms. Tony wrapped his legs around Steve’s waist, rolling his hips up against Steve’s firm abs with such fervent interest that Steve had to pull off his lips to gulp down air. 

One of them whined, another one growled, and Tony tugged on Steve’s hair for more. 

“If that’s how you react to flowers, babe,” he whispered hoarsely against Steve’s panting lips, “show me what you can do with me.”

After all the pampering and the treats Tony had spoiled Steve with today, Steve was ready for him. Gone were the sleepy legs and the groggy mind. He put Tony down long enough to sweep him up in a bridal carry and walk them to the bedroom. But Steve hadn’t really had much time in the suite before Tony knocked on the door, and while Tony nibbled and licked at his ear and offered no help whatsoever, he carried Tony into the office and then out to the jacuzzi overlooking Central Park. 

There were too many doors in this damn suite, and Steve was ready to give up and fuck Tony in the bubbling hot water with the massaging jets and breathtaking view when Tony let his earlobe out between his teeth. 

“It’s that way,” Tony whispered, jerking his chin to the right. “Hot tub’s a bad idea baby, lube won’t work and I’ll never forgive you if you make me wait, Steve, please—”

Steve’s answering growl reverberated from deep in his chest, possessive in his hunger, and he claimed Tony’s lips with his own in a biting, needful kiss. He was done—he didn’t have the patience for a bedroom anymore, and before Tony knew what was happening, Steve dropped him into the high-back couch on his knees. Tony grabbed onto the back of the couch for support as Steve leaned over his body, nosing into the soft skin of Tony’s throat and worrying the skin with his teeth. The smell of him - the mix of his cologne and his sweat fogged Steve’s mind with a desperate lust that left him salivating and grinding his hips against Tony’s thick, round ass like an animal in heat. 

“Tell me you’ve got lube, Tony,” Steve moaned into Tony’s skin between sloppy, wet kisses. His spit tickling down the long column of Tony’s neck and left Tony arching into Steve’s firm bulk in a full-bodied shudder. 

“Duffle!” Tony managed in a gasp, trying and failing to look for the bag he’d so carelessly discarded minutes ago. “Lube’s in the duffle, Steve—get it, baby, please fuck me—”

Steve rumbled against Tony’s ear. “I want you naked and in this position by the time I come back, sweetheart. Can you do that for me, show me how bad you need to be fucked?” 

Tony’s powerful back and strong arms shook in anticipation, but he stubbornly found the strength to press up for more. Steve reached for him, arranging Tony just the way he wanted with his thighs spread and his back arched to show off the perfect, round curve of his ass. As Tony understood what Steve wanted from him, Steve allowed himself to indulge, sweeping his hands up and down Tony’s front, gently squeezing and kneading his pecs, his firm, defined abs, until his hand slipped down to cup and stroke Tony’s hard cock through his trousers.

With a loose grip of Tony’s cock, Steve rolled his hips against Tony’s ass again ever so slowly, letting him feel every inch of his hard cock through their layers of clothing. Tony’s breath escaped him in a stuttering moan, and with barely enough blood left for coordination, he clumsily shuffled his knees closer to the ledge so he could push his ass up for Steve in shameless offering. 

“I’m going to stretch you open on my cock, sweetheart,” Steve promised him with a deep, predatory growl in his voice. “I’m going to finger you wet and fill you with my cock, hold you down and split you open against this couch until you sob and beg and streak this couch with your come.” 

Then just like that, he removed his hands, leaving Tony slumped and weak-limbed with needful lust. 

“Do you understand what I’ve asked you to do, Tony?” 

Tony husked out an uneven answer in the affirmative, and what he couldn’t express in words he tried to communicate with jerking nods. 

Assured of Tony’s agreement, Steve moved away from the couch at an unhurried pace to find Tony’s duffle bag. He didn’t look back to see what Tony did after he turned his back, but he listened carefully to keep track of him. First Tony’s belt dropped to the carpet with a muffled thud, and then he kicked off his polished shoes with enough force that they clattered into nearby furniture. Then, finally, Steve heard the distinct sound of a zipper being undone and Tony’s dress pants dropping to the floor in a distant whisper of fabric. 

Steve didn’t open Tony’s duffle bag until he was sure Tony kneeled on the couch again. He didn’t want this night to pass too quickly, so to the extent that he could, he wanted to give them some time to cool off first. 

Delayed gratification had never been Steve’s strong suit when it came to Tony. 

Tony hadn’t packed much with him, and Steve found his travel size tube of water based lube easily. He tried to wait another two, three minutes, but it may have been closer to forty seconds before he rejoined Tony in the sitting room. The contrast of Tony, kneeling in offering in such an opulent, stately room that came with a price tag rivaling a typical mortgage moved Steve in ways he hadn’t expected. There was no doubt he had severely overestimated himself. In what world had he thought himself strong enough to resist Tony for any period of time? 

Much too soon Steve was close enough to touch Tony again, to feel the heat radiating from his body. Close enough to see Tony’s dark, hard cock hanging heavy between his thighs. Whatever composure Steve thought he had was lost, and he could feel his mouth watering as his attention zeroed in on Tony’s erection. How long had it been since Steve felt the girth of Tony's cock burn down his throat, or tasted him on the flat of his tongue?

But as much as he wanted to hurry and find his salvation in Tony’s heavenly body, Steve didn’t want to miss a moment of it. He sat down on the couch beside Tony, close enough that Tony’s knee pressed against Steve’s thigh and his hand brushed against Steve’s shoulder every time Tony released and clutched at the back of the couch again in feverish anticipation. A dark flush had already colored Tony’s chest, his neck, and his face, and as Steve absorbed Tony’s glazed, needful expression, he couldn’t help but wonder how long Tony’d preoccupied himself with fantasies of how their night would play out. How many meetings had he suffered through with the distraction of his hard cock aching for Steve’s touch? If only Steve had been there with him, Tony would have left the hotel satisfied before his meetings every morning. In a dark fantasy world, Steve could even imagine himself on his hands and knees between Tony’s legs under a conference table, tending to his lover’s needs between one meeting and the next. 

Without getting up, Steve reached up between Tony’s legs and started slowly spreading the warming lube between his cheeks. Tony whimpered the first time Steve’s arm grazed against his straining erection, but otherwise he remained obediently still, even spreading his thighs as Steve guided his legs apart. With his legs spread widely, Steve smeared slick coats of lube up and down the crack of his ass, getting him good and sloppy wet all between his cheeks. Now and then when his fingers brushed over Tony’s hole, Steve slowed his touch, circling it without penetrating him until Tony was powerless to control the rutting thrusts of his hips. 

Steve could have teased Tony for hours just to watch him. The lean, cording muscles of Tony’s neck and shoulders, his spit-slick lips bitten red with the effort not to make any demands on Steve, the sweat already gleaming over his flawless tan skin—spellbound, Steve drank in the sight of him gulping down air only to choke into silence when Steve pushed into him with two thick fingers. The strong muscle of Tony’s rim pulsed against Steve’s fingers, and as Steve thrust his fingers into him to the last knuckle, he saw Tony’s jaw go slack and his eyes roll back in pleasure. 

Under his fingers, Tony’s body gave beautifully. 

“Are two fingers too easy for you, sweetheart?” Steve murmured in praise, withdrawing his fingers slowly to pour out more lube on his fingers, getting them well slick before fucking three fingers into him. 

Tony only grunted softly in reply, but he pressed his hips back to meet every stroke of Steve’s hand, clearly eager for harder, deeper, faster thrusts. But just because he understood what Tony wanted didn’t mean Steve would give it to him yet. 

“Do you hear it, Tony? You’re ass is so full of lube it’s coming out over my fingers, do you hear it? God, you’re so wet… how many fingers do you think I could fit in you if I tried?” Steve mused to himself in undertone, his voice no louder than the squelching wet sound of his fingers fucking Tony open for his cock. He felt the immediate twitch and tremor of excitement as Tony’s body squeezed around his fingers. 

“I’m gonna show you how much you mean to me, sweetheart,” he whispered softly into Tony’s ear, “how happy you make me, especially today...” he twisted and scissored his fingers inside Tony just to hear him suck in a breath and groan, and with his fingers still spread he pulled out of his ass, leaving him whimpering Steve’s name, desperate for more. 

“So empty, Steve,” he whined into the cushioned back of the couch, his eyes barely focused anymore as he drooled into the plush velvet fabric. “Need you, baby, been so long, Steve, need your big cock inside me—”

It was almost too much. Tony’s blown pupils and the mess of drool already wetting his mouth, his chin, and drawing long, wet lines of spit down his throat… he knew exactly how to get Steve's blood pumping by using that thin, strained sound of his pleading voice as he shamelessly played into to one of Steve’s favorite fantasies of Tony feeling incomplete and hollow without Steve’s cock fucking into him and plugging his ass up. 

Steve got to his feet before he lost his mind, settling into his favorite place behind Tony bare, ready ass. He pulled his clothes off in a matter of seconds, then with a firm grip of each of Tony’s full cheeks, Steve spread him open to indulge in the mouth-watering sight of Tony’s stretched hole and his puffy, furrowed rim all shiny with lube. Despite the thorough fingering and stretching, Tony still keened like a wounded animal when Steve stretched him too far, and every time he did, Steve eased up his grip and soothed him with his thumb, rubbing at his sore rim and fucking him slowly, gently, until Tony’s voice lifted in deep, throaty moans for more. 

He drew a hand up the crack of Tony’s ass, scooping the plentiful, excess lube into the palm of his hand. “Easy,” he whispered, rubbing Tony’s lower back gently, encouraging him to relax. “Breathe, sweetheart.”

Steve could practically see Tony rolling his eyes when he pushed his hips back and snapped at him. “If you don’t give me that cock in the next second, Steve, I swear to fucking god—”

He smoothed his lubed hand over his cock in a loose fist, lined himself up, and thrust in with such force Tony lost his breath with a grunt of surprise. There was no waiting, no adjusting, Steve pounded into him without abandon, soon losing himself to the way Tony’s ass and thighs bounced to the same maddening pace of his hips. They had only just started and he desperately tried to control himself, to make it last, but the jiggle and bounce of Tony’s beautifully round, perky ass was too much, he could feel instinct start to take over when Tony reached back and grabbed him by the neck. 

With his back arched and turned towards Steve, Tony reached behind his head to jerk Steve in for an insistent and covetous kiss. Steve stilled his hips and hurried to sweep his hands up from Tony’s hips to brace his weight in the difficult position, holding him as they kissed. And since the position made it so very tempting, Steve pinched and tugged on Tony’s exposed nipples, made so vulnerable to his touch while Tony turned his body and reached back for him. He released it to grope and knead Tony’s firm chest in his big palms, and just when Tony relaxed into his firm massage, Steve rolled and tugged his nipples sharply between his fingers, teasing him until Tony all but shook in Steve’s strong arms. 

Steve gradually eased into slow, gentle thrusts again, until he was holding Tony close to his chest while he fucked him slow and deep, drawing all the way out before feeding him his cock inch for slow, burning inch. Under him, Tony shuddered with delight, moaning shamelessly as praise and words of affection spilled from his lips. 

“Finally feel you, so good, baby, so big—so big inside me,” Tony panted against his lips, so close Steve could feel Tony’s mouth curled up in a mischievous grin. “Can feel you watching me… you missed me, didn’t you, Steve? Missed this ass?” 

“Mine,” Steve grunted against Tony’s smirking lips, grinding his hips against Tony’s ass hard enough to bruise. “Only _mine._ ”

“Yeah, baby, yours, only yours,” Tony promised him. “Feel your eyes on me, Steve… want a show, just for you?”

For a second, Steve was lost. A show? He slowed his hips again, not sure if Tony was hurt and needed to show him something. They were building to the inevitable release, and as tough as it was to stop, Steve pulled out ever so gently and watched his cock slide out of Tony’s ass with great care to be sure there was no signs of bleeding. 

He had almost pulled all the way out when Tony thrust his hips back and impaled himself on Steve’s hard, fat cock. Steve’s heart dropped, but Tony was so terribly eager and enthusiastic that Steve couldn’t stop him. On wide-spread knees and braced against the couch for leverage, Tony rolled his strong hips back with expert control, snapping his hips up every time he bottomed out to let Steve enjoy a front row view and the unmistakable sound of his ass cheeks clapping loudly together. 

Tony was fucking himself on Steve’s cock with such skill and such nimble dexterity that Steve forgot to breathe, forgot to do anything except hang on and try to commit every second of Tony’s performance to memory. The combined effect of seeing and hearing Tony’s full ass cheeks slapping together and feeling the intense grip around his cock every time Tony threw his hips back was all that Steve could take. He tried to grunt out a warning before instinct took over, but Tony only squeezed down on him harder, snapped and wiggled his hips faster. 

“Give it to me, Steve—come, fill me with your come, fuck me full of your come—”

Steve’s orgasm drove through him like a stampeding train, devastating and inescapable. His hips skittered forward in uncoordinated, instinctive thrusts until he came deep inside Tony, but even as his lizard brain wanted to pump every drop into his mate, Steve pulled out before he finished and jerked his cock through the thick, frothy mess of lube and come to paint Tony’s perfect round ass with long bands of his come. 

It might have been the euphoria talking, but Steve firmly believed the contrast of his white come over Tony’s tanned olive skin was the most beautiful piece of art he’d ever seen - and he told Tony as much as he sunk down on his knees behind him, took Tony’s cheeks in hand again to spread his gaping, sorely abused hole, and dove in with gusto. With a cut-off cry of delight, Tony dropped forward to brace his weight against the couch, pressing his ass back onto Steve’s face and turning just so to watch Steve over his shoulder. 

Steve caught Tony’s eye over his shoulder and winked at him before turning his full attention to giving Tony no less pleasure in return. He lapped up the come and lube spilling out of Tony’s ass, even trying to suck it out of him between teasing his furrowed rim. When Tony mustered enough motor control to reach back to spread his own ass for Steve, Steve could finally put his fingers to better use. He fucked two fingers into Tony, licking him out like a treat. Tony’s breath caught in his throat as it always did whenever Steve really leaned into eating him out, because there was nothing he’d shy away from - scooping the come out of Tony to eat him out, stretching his hole to its limit as he licked into him, sucking on his rim for minutes on end until it came away dark, red, and bruised with a terrible hickey. 

He was so caught up in what Steve’s mouth was doing that he didn’t notice Steve’s free hand reaching for his cock. It was only a gentle, leisurely touch at first, but it quickly built into a tight grip and fast strokes, milking the orgasm out of him. 

Stubborn as he was, Tony couldn’t bear to look away, he never wanted to look away even as his eyes rolled back in his head from the overwhelming pleasure. But Steve knew him enough to know that even if he looked calm, Tony wasn’t necessarily composed on the inside. He felt Tony’s orgasm building him into a frenzy in the way his loose, stretched rim pulsed like it wanted to draw his fingers in, in the tremble of Tony’s spread thighs, and in the tight arch of his foot and curl of his toes, until suddenly it overtook him like a crashing wave, something he clearly saw coming but still wasn’t prepared for. 

Steve couldn’t take his eyes off of Tony if he tried. Mesmerized, Steve watched Tony writhe and moan through his extended orgasm, his body slumping forward as if all his strength had suddenly abandoned him. Steve continued milking Tony’s cock and fucking him through his climax with two fingers, curling his fingers to massage his prostate through to the end. 

When Tony’s long, low moans of pleasure and praise and gratitude slowly turned to soft wincing and twitching discomfort, Steve pulled his hands away, but he still couldn’t look away. Tony was the most beautiful man he’d ever seen, and he was never as breathtaking as he was now—sated, vulnerable, and blissed out. This was a side of him that was all Steve’s, no other man (or woman) shared in Tony in this way, saw him like this or felt him like this. 

The privilege was overwhelming, and not for the first time, Steve could feel the emotions welling up behind his eyes, unbidden. 

Quickly, he straightened up on his knees behind Tony. He meant to distract himself by getting up and moving them somewhere more comfortable, when his eyes caught on the undisturbed streaks of Steve’s come now drying up on Tony’s ass and lower back. 

Was it possible to love Tony more than he already did? 

“Come on,” he said quietly, kneeling on the bed long enough to gather Tony up in his arms and lifting him up. This time he walked with confidence, because he knew exactly where he wanted to go. 

Tony curled into him and nuzzled into his throat lazily. Steve wouldn’t be surprised if Tony faded into sleep any minute. 

“Liked th’show?” Tony wondered, his words slurring drowsily. 

“So much,” Steve whispered softly, keeping his voice low for Tony’s sake. He used his elbow to bump the switch for the jacuzzi jets to come on, then climbed in with care. 

“Pretty sure it’s one of the best moments of my life, ever,” Steve continued as he slowly lowered them into the warm, bubbling hot tub. He settled comfortably with Tony in his lap, positioning them so Tony had a direct view of Central Park through the floor to ceiling windows. 

Tony’s pleased, bashful smile was more beautiful than anything Steve might see through the windows, and he found he couldn’t look away. 

“Better than the flowers?” Tony whispered with a sheepish hope. 

Flowers or his boyfriend, surprising him by flying back early to see him? Steve laughed at the question and pressed in closer to kiss away the shy embarrassment in Tony’s expression. 

“Sweetheart, what flowers could ever compare to you?”


	5. One

Sometimes, when Tony felt particularly peeved, petty, and lonely, he wished Steve didn’t work. 

It wasn’t a regular thought, or even one he allowed to fester for very long. Quite the opposite: Tony was indescribably proud of Steve for dedicating his life to a profession that really made a difference in people’s lives. Both of them knew Steve didn’t need to work - Tony had made it clear from the beginning that Steve had no need to work another day in his life if he didn’t want to. Tony made more money than either of them could spend in a lifetime, and nothing made him happier than using it to dote on his man. 

But Steve wouldn’t be Steve if he turned to a life of manicures and bon-bons. He loved what he did, working with people one on one and being a part of helping them regain their physical independence. 

Tony couldn’t be happier for him, if only Steve’s beloved job didn’t also mean that he couldn’t join Tony on all his business trips and conferences around the world. The man didn’t even like taking his sick days when he knew that patients would be counting on him to be there. 

So whenever it was absolutely necessary, Tony traveled for work alone like some hopeless schmuck. There was nothing he disliked more about his life choices than the networking, and to do it without Steve at his side was worse still. Now and then he’d get lucky and meet some people closer to his age, people he could connect to more easily. But more often than not, the old wrinkly cads he had to mix and mingle with were middle aged at best. He hadn’t thought much about it at first - after all, he’d always been too young for his peers, whether in boarding school, college, or graduate school. By extension, why should his career be any different? 

Except along with the age gap came the conversations about mortgages, mistresses, and marriage roulette. The number of people he’d noticed bonding over their busy schedules juggling fiancees and girlfriends was only outdone by the number of people who’d lost interest in talking to him after realizing he had neither to contribute. 

“Does your husband know?” some tech millionaire from Germany had asked him after Tony admitted his boyfriend was easy going. “Or do you still keep them separate?”

On one hand, Tony wanted to applaud how unbothered they all were to continue the same conversation with same-sex relationships. On the other hand, he really wished Steve had been there to clench his jaw of moral high ground at them for assuming Tony was as philandering and sleazy as they were. 

“We’re not married, but Steve’s my only partner. We’ve been together for five years,” Tony had said while swallowing down as much of his vitriolic contempt as he could stomach. “Even if I wanted to, he doesn’t leave me with enough energy to entertain another man.”

“You… are not married?”

They had stared back at him as if he’d said he was feeling fluish with a spot of polio. As if he had personally insulted them by admitting he was a man who was free to sow his wild oats indefinitely but chose not to. The indignity! 

Different combinations of the same conversation became so common place that Tony soon learned that there was no room for people in happy, monogamous relationships at these toxic get-togethers. After enough people ‘forgot’ to invite him to dinner and poolside poker nights, and lively conversations consistently quieted to awkward silence whenever he came near, Tony learned his place on the sidelines. They included him to the extent that they needed to for his business and his genius, but just like boarding school and college and graduate school, he didn’t fit in. 

The only difference was that this time around he was glad to be free of them. Even the thought of cheating on Steve made him sick to his stomach - Steve who loved him fiercely and fearlessly, Steve who would do anything for him if Tony only asked. Any attempt to spend time with such heartless lunatics was an insult to his man and his relationship, and Tony counted himself lucky to be free of their toxic lifestyles. 

That didn’t mean their blatant exclusion didn’t hurt. 

“I thought I couldn’t hate them any more than I already do, you know?” Tony grumbled over a homemade lasagna Steve had thrown together after Tony stomped home from a particularly trying dinner in the Hamptons. 

He’d survived dinner and kept his cool by the skin of his teeth. There was only so much Tony could eat when he was surrounded by despicable people, and he liked Steve’s food better anyway. Even with healthy alternatives like cottage cheese, his vegetarian lasagna was so good Tony could barely find the time to complain between bites until his plate was scraped clean.

“And the whole time he’s sitting across from me with his arm around his mistress, laughing like his wife isn’t home cleaning toddler vomit out of the curtains. Nine years, two baby boys, and he’s on his fourth girlfriend of the year.” 

“Sweetheart, you don’t know how their lives work. Maybe it is okay for them,” Steve said in the gentling tone that meant he wanted Tony to let it go. Not because he thought Tony was wrong or jumping to conclusions, but because Steve didn’t like that these strangers could make Tony that uncomfortable so effortlessly. 

“Maybe they have an understanding. There are more ways to express love and share in each other’s lives than monogamy.”

“Not these people—these, these assholes with their pied-à-terres around the world for men and women their wives can never know about. I don’t know what’s worse, their continued shock that I haven’t cheated on you yet, or that they still look at me like I’m twelve because I’m not married. Because clearly marriage is such a sacred institution in their lives.”

Steve took one look at him and decided it wasn’t worth it to articulate a counterpoint. He got up to collect their plates, but Tony quickly got to his feet and did it instead. 

“A lot of people treat it as another adulting milestone,” Steve said as he sat back in his seat, watching Tony rinse off their dinner plates before putting them away in the dishwasher. “They probably think about marriage like it’s another superyacht, and they don’t understand why you’re not interested in the superyacht, too.”

Tony grimaced at the thought, but found he couldn’t disagree. Steve’s assessment rang too true. He took a look around the kitchen to be sure he’d picked up everything, then put the kettle on for tea. Chamomile was necessary after the day he’d had. 

While the water bubbled up, Tony joined Steve at their kitchen table again. 

“Do you think I’m less serious about us because we’re not married?” he asked quietly. 

After all these years, the question almost made Steve laugh. “Sweetheart, they’re straight. There’s a whole precedence for marriage in order to have families. You can’t compare us to them. Marriage vows didn’t stop my dad from leaving,” he said as casually as he’d ever managed those words before. “The law won’t make a relationship more or less serious. Honest communication does that, and you’ve never missed a step. I don’t need more than that.” 

Steve’s assurance never failed to calm Tony’s worst fears. They had had this conversation many times before, and Tony had heard variations of the same answer so many times he could practically recite Steve’s answer from memory. But whatever the reason - the light from sunset reaching their kitchen just right, Steve’s crossed arms in his unbuttoned Henley - the ring around Steve’s neck caught the light just right and caught his attention. 

“Why haven’t you told me who that ring belongs to?” Tony asked with a downward twist of his lips. The unexpected question stumped Steve for a beat. He reached for his necklace out of habit, worrying the gold band absently between his fingers as he thought about his answer. 

Tony couldn’t stand the thoughtful silence. Steve was _deciding_ what to tell him, which meant Tony wasn’t likely the truth yet again. Quickly, he got to his feet and returned to fix them tea, he didn’t need to see that calculating look on Steve’s face again. Every time he brought up the ring Steve either evaded or gave him a general answer, and Tony couldn’t handle it anymore. Who was so important to Steve that he always had to keep their ring warm against his skin? Nothing was that precious to Tony except for Steve’s old dog tags; he never left the house without them. Was there anything of Tony’s that was even half as important to Steve as that insufferable ring?

“It never became relevant,” Steve eventually said with a shrug. It was the most direct and honest answer Tony had ever gotten, and he was at a loss for what to say. When he turned back around, Steve looked caught between a rock and a hard place. 

“Does it really bother you, Tony?” 

“Sometimes,” Tony admitted quietly. He sat down at the table again, keeping one mug while offering the other to Steve. 

“Look, I don’t want to be the person who doesn’t let their partner have their privacy and their secrets. You’re your own person. I love you and I trust you. You don’t have to tell me much, I only want to know whose it was, when you got it, why they’re so important to you, and whether or not you’ve ever fucked them.” 

Steve blinked at him, stunned. Then, after a long, pregnant silence, he snorted loudly to himself and facepalmed, hiding his face and muffling his laughter in one big palm. 

“Tony,” he finally managed, genuinely at a loss for what to say. “Sweetheart, nobody gave me this ring. I bought it myself. You have no-one to worry about, I swear to you.”

“I want to believe you, Steve,” Tony grumbled, attempting a humorous tone but failing spectacularly. He sounded pitiful at best. “I just find it hard to believe that you went out and bought yourself a ring, but you treat it like it’s a gift from a lover you lost to the war, who, any day now, will come knocking on our door and take you away from here to some far-away island and do god knows what to—”

Steve rolled his eyes, but he reached out to take Tony’s hand in his. He squeezed Tony’s hand and interrupted his anxious ramble. 

“Tony, I got it for you.”

Numb and speechless, Tony stared as Steve reached behind his neck and unclasped the gold chain himself. He turned Tony’s hand over and placed the ring into Tony’s open palm. Tony had never seen Steve take it off before, so it took him some time before he mustered enough sense to actually look at the gold band in his hand. 

“The same month you broke up with me, I was going to propose,” Steve explained sheepishly. “I had a whole plan, I was going to propose and give you that ring and ask for my dog tags back. But, it didn’t happen, and then I couldn’t part with it. I thought I’d keep it until I got over you then sell it, but that never seemed to happen, so I kept it.”

The ring shone like new even after all these years. Tony turned it this way and, catching something on the inside of the band, he held it closer to read the inscription. 

_You & your love above all - SGR_

“...this is mine,” Tony said under his breath not knowing if he should stare at the ring or at Steve. If he’d been given infinite time to predict how Steve would finally explain the ring, an engagement and wedding ring for him wouldn’t have occurred to him in a million years. 

All this time that he’d been so stubbornly against marriage, Steve silently kept his ring. He had wanted to marry him, but he’d respected Tony’s decision - Steve had denied himself something that clearly meant a lot to him out of respect for Tony’s opinion, and here Tony had strong-armed him into sharing something private and sensitive out of misdirected jealousy. 

The urge to put it on was overwhelming, and Tony hurried to give it back before he acted impulsively on a matter that deserved serious, careful thought. 

“I am—fuck, sorry doesn’t even begin to; I shouldn’t have asked, Steve, this was yours—”

“Tony, it’s alright. You’d find out eventually,” Steve said with a strained smile. God, if only Tony could invent a time machine so he could travel back to five minutes ago and kick his own ass for the discomfort behind those pursed lips. 

“I’ve wanted to tell you for a few years, but I never knew how to do it without sounding like I was trying to pressure you into marriage.”

“I know you wouldn’t,” Tony promised, but Steve didn’t look convinced. 

“But you thought it belonged to someone else.” 

Tony struggled with how to explain his jumble of insecurities. “I wear your dog tags,” he eventually managed. “They mean the world to me, because they’re yours and they remind me of what we have. You don’t do that with anything I’ve given you, and I thought it was because you had that with someone else,” he finished lamely. “Someone so special you wouldn’t tell me about them.”

“First of all, the gifts you give me I can’t wear on a daily basis,” Steve started, and before Tony could argue, he quickly added, “and second, you’ve always had something of mine. That’s how I like it. In college it was hickeys. Then you wore my dog tags. You don’t know how hot that makes me, Tony, seeing you wearing them. But then that summer you were going out into the real world with people like your dad and his shitty business partners, and hickeys and dog tags didn’t feel like enough. The only way this ring would make me happier was if it was on your finger, sweetheart,” he admitted ruefully. “I don’t care about a marriage half as much as I want the world to know you’re off the market. That you’re with me. If they want to touch you, it’s through me.”

Tony’s fingers twitched with the need to reach out for Steve’s hand and take his ring back. For the first time in his life, he felt that phantom weight on his left ring finger fellow socialites had often told him about, an undeniable reminder of a part of him that was missing. For them it was a well-paying MRS degree; for Tony, it was only Steve. 

“If it’s on my hand,” Tony said slowly, “what about you?”

It was a very serious question, expect Steve seemed to find it funny as hell. 

“With all due respect,” he dared to say with a big grin, “that’s your problem, not mine.”

“I could make you regret that.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“I might.”

“You won’t.”

“Whatever, give it to me,” Tony said in sprinting words and placed his left hand in Steve’s. “I want it, Steve.”

Steve blinked him for a moment in surprise. Slowly, he dared to believe that Tony meant it. He took Tony’s hand gently in his, and with great care he finally slid the gold band onto the finger it had been made for so many years ago.

For a long, quiet moment, Steve couldn’t bring himself to look away from the ring in its new place of honor. He bowed his head over Tony’s hand and pressed a kiss over the back of his hand.

“Sweetheart, if you only knew how happy you make me,” Steve whispered with tears gathering in his eyes. 

Tony reached to soothe his fingers over Steve’s cheeks, cradling his face tenderly to express himself better with sweet, chaste kisses.

“I might know something about what you’re talking about,” he replied under his breath, “and it’s all thanks to this man I found who listens to me, respects me, and who never lets me forget what it feels like to be loved.”


	6. + One

In all their years, Tony had been the only source for the scant information published about them and about Steve himself. He’d gone out of his way to keep the vultures away from Steve, to silence everyone either with kindness or NDA’s. Somehow he had pulled it off: five years together and they were so low-key and their defenses were so strong that Steve avoided global household infamy as Tony Stark’s gay lover. 

Given Steve’s relative obscurity and the minimal information available about their relationship, the media lost it when Tony first stepped out with a wedding ring. He’d been on the red carpet at Gotham Hall for a charity auction for Carol’s foundation when the first photographer caught the golden shine on his ring finger. 

“Mr. Stark, Mr. Stark! Congratulations on the marriage, Mr. Stark, what can you tell us about the special day?” 

Tony had given her a half-smile and moved on without a reply. Questions echoed in his wake wherever he went, growing louder if he stopped for pictures with some event organizers and old friends, but he didn’t answer any of them with more than a smile. The faster he made it through the press, the faster he’d meet up with Steve inside the event center. 

“Mr. Stark, who’s the special lady?” 

“How did you know he was the one?” 

“How does it feel to be a married man?” 

Near the turn leading away from the press he happened to run into Carol herself. Her Marvel Initiative connected young and working age refugees with work-study programs and in-demand training opportunities that provided them with the practical experience and skill sets necessary to become independent, and self-sufficient Americans across the country. Tony had been onboard from day one, and it was one of the few annual events Steve never missed. 

“I guess I should thank you for unveiling the secret here with us,” Carol teased him after a needed hug. “I couldn’t have asked for better publicity, people will be talking about the Initiative for weeks because of you.”

Tony's delighted laugh and natural charm effortlessly drew the attention of all cameras in their section. The press rarely witnessed his giddy happiness so openly shared in public, and as his joy filled the air it lifted the dignified, business-minded atmosphere like the warmest star in the night sky. 

“You say that like there was a plan in place! I didn’t know what this was until last Thursday, and Steve’s barely let me come up for air since.”

“Wait. Last Thursday?” Carol said slowly, shocked and mildly upset, like Tony had told her Pluto really wasn’t the ninth valid planet in the solar system. “Tony, Steve got you that in college. We were all there. If you didn’t know about it, where has it been?”

“That’s a spectacular question that I can’t wait for Steve to answer over dinner,” Tony said with an innocent look and a helpless shrug. Carol wasn’t exactly the patient type, and she looked ready to tackle him to spill the damn beans - except with her sparkling white pant suit and all the media focused on them, she had to keep her fists to herself. Instead, she satisfied herself with making him pose for a picture with her and smiling at him with far too many teeth. 

“Mr. Stark! When will we meet Mr. Right?” 

The question caught Tony on a whim, and with a devilish smirk, he couldn’t resist saying _something_. “I’ve kept Mr. Right away from you vultures for five years, why should today be any different? He makes me a better man, a happier man, and that’s all you’re getting out of me tonight.”

With that Tony turned to kiss Carol on the cheek, wished her luck with the last of the carpet, and promised he’d see her ‘on the other side’. 

Except Carol held on to his hand and made sure he met her eye as she quietly said, “No sneaking off in the bathroom, broom closet, elevator, coat room - anything. I’m counting on that Stark charm today, Tony, please don’t be late to your own speech.” 

“What do you take me for, Danvers? Tonight’s important to us, too,” Tony promised, sounding sincere before explaining, “Besides, Steve insisted on taking the edge off on the drive over, so unless there’s a bicycle seat involved, I’m game for anything” 

It might have worked on most people, but Carol knew Tony. More importantly, Carol knew how Tony and Steve got around each other in fancy dress, and the way Tony looked in his smart tuxedo Carol wouldn’t trust a word out of his mouth. 

“Don’t make me call James, Tony,” she hissed at him under her breath, already levelling a long-suffering look at him that made it clear she meant it. 

Tony let her threat roll off his back with an easy grin, but the moment his back was turned, he furtively hurried his pace. Rhodey didn’t forget shit, and the last thing Tony needed was his best friend with some mission to keep any tabs on him. 

He paused long enough to greet the big wigs at the door in passing, but then he cut a direct path to their designated tables. Steve had said he’d wait for Tony there, and with any luck, Tony might convince his man to join him on the candle-lit mezzanine for an intimate intermission and some cock...tails.

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to know what happened to the flowers: Tony has Happy toss them out because they "wilted in the car."
> 
> If you want to know who puts cottage cheese in lasagna: ME! Man, it's so good. You have to mush it up, and I mix it with ricotta and parmesan and mozzarella, but ahhhh so good - and makes the cheese a little "healthier" and easier to digest in a cheesy lasagna. (I personally only make vegetarian lasagna nowadays - even my "meat" lasagna is made with soyrizo). This has been our culinary corner for the day.


End file.
